Chicken Soup
by Benny The Crazed Cartoonist
Summary: Probably not the best thing to feed your sick rooster friend. Three Caballeros friendship.


**Based off a suuuper short, like, four-panel comic I drew. Since I can't upload the comic, I just wrote it out.**

 **Literally this whole idea came from the chicken soup line.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Three Caballeros, otherwise they'd have their own TV show.**

* * *

"Y-AAAAAAAAAAHHH-CHOO!"

Panchito's head whipped forward with the force of his sneeze, almost banging against his knees. The end of the gale caught the corner of his blanket, and it sailed off his body like a bird in flights. Say what you would about the rooster, but his lung capacity was enough to rival the Big Bad Wolf. José set aside his book with a sigh. Not that he could do much reading anyway with his friend's constant sick noises, he kept losing his page under the constant force of Panchito's beak. José pushed himself off his slouching armchair and retrieved the blanket, draping it back over Panchito's shivering form. "One more time and I will sew that blanket to your pyjamas"

"Gracias, José," the rooster sniffled, settling down again. The poor bird looked absolutely miserable. José couldn't remember a time he'd seen his friend so lackluster.

Donald poked his head in from the kitchen. "No good, Joe. I can still hear it from the bedroom." Ay yi yi. With Panchito settled on the living room couch, the other two thought they could finally get a good night's rest without his sneezing rattling the walls of their communal bedroom. Apparently they were stuck with Panchito's shouts; sick or well, bedroom or living room. At least when he was well, they could politely remind him to use his indoor voice. Not so much when it was involuntary. José stifled a groan. Another sleepless night ahead, unless they could get some medication into their stubborn friend. Just thinking about the headache involved in trying to get Panchito to take medicine made him yearn for a cigar.

He shook his head, _tsking_. "We warned you about going riding in the rain, my friend."

"'Mad as a wet hen'," snickered Donald. "More like _sick_ as a wet hen."

"Rooster," Panchito snapped, then screamed another sneeze into his tissue. Donald and José recoiled, wincing.

"Joke as you will, but 'Chito's cold does not seem to be getting better," José adjusted the ice pack on his friend's head. Almost completely melted, but from fever or just body temperature, he didn't know. "Should it not be changing at least a little?"

Donald came into the living room fully now, tapping a finger against his beak. "You're right, usually after a few days symptoms die down." He fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe some soup?"

José perked at the idea. "Ah, yes! Feeding the cold! Minha madre taught me that was the best course of action."

"Stay put, Panch, we'll fix you up something in a jiffy."

"And where else would I go," deadpanned the sick bird, slouching against the couch arm. José followed Donald into the kitchen and began to ransack the cupboards. Three bachelors plus mostly unemployed equalled a desolate kitchen. When Donald and José regrouped at the end of their scavenger hunt, they had four cans between them.

Donald picked one up and inspected the label. "This one's a little old... Do you think chicken soup might do him some good?"

Both of them turned to look back at their dozing friend, who was _literally a rooster_ , before turning back to one another.

"No. No I do not."

"No, you're right. Don't know what I was thinking."

Eventually they decided on a can of not-too-rancid tomato soup. José heated it up in one of their clean-ish pots while Donald toasted some bread. José tipped the soup into a bowl and prepared to bring it out to Panchito, but Donald made a noise of protest. Silently, without warning the rooster of suspicious activity taking place right under his nose, Donald dropped a cold tablet into the soup. José watched gleefully as it dissolved in the warm liquid. "Excellent idea, amigo!" Panchito would take his medicine without even knowing! The duck puffed up with pride at the compliment. Together they brought the food out to their friend and, with a little coaxing, Panchito ate every bite. Immediately after the soup disappeared down his gullet, Panchito's eyes drooped. He didn't even have enough time to thank them before dropping into sleep.

José and Donald breathed matching sighs of relief. Maybe now that he was fed and resting, Panchito could finally start to heal. And maybe they could finally get the sleep they needed so badly. Tip-toeing out of the room, they shut the lights off behind them.

* * *

Whatever was in that cold tablet worked like a charm. The next day, José and Donald woke to Panchito's usual shout of ecstasy instead of a sneeze. The rooster bounced off the walls, leaping onto their beds like an excited puppy, ready to start the day. While the wake-up call wasn't entirely appreciated, it was good to see Panchito up and about again. Hopefully they could put all that cold nonsense behind them for a good long while.

Almost synchronized, Donald and José sneezed.

 _ **END**_


End file.
